


Cold Showers and Dark Thoughts

by Milla_GSD



Category: Good Omens (TV)
Genre: Angst, Chronic Pain, Crowley has chronic pain, Crowley has ptsd, Crowley is depressed, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-20
Updated: 2019-08-20
Packaged: 2020-09-19 08:22:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,373
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20328040
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Milla_GSD/pseuds/Milla_GSD
Summary: Crowley's sleep is plagued with nightmares and when he wakes from one, he doesn't want to disturb his angel. Dragging himself to the shower instead, Crowley succumbs to his dark thoughts. Will his angel find him in time?





	Cold Showers and Dark Thoughts

Crowley jerks away, eyes flashing open in an instant as his chest heaves. Flames dance in his mind as his nightmare hangs on. Sitting up, he leans forward, hands covering his face as he tries so desperately to banish the images from his mind. A hand lands on his shoulder and Crowley feels himself flinch at the touch before he even really registers that he has. The hand doesn’t move though, caressing him softly. 

“It’s ok, dear,” a voice reaches him and Crowley breaths in slowly. “We’re both here, both alive.”

Aziraphale’s words wash over him and yet Crowley can’t stop the shivers that start to course through him. The hand tightens, but Crowley pulls himself away from it, sliding his long frame from the shared bed. “I need a shower,” he hears himself mumbling. He just wants to stand under a torrent of water, wants to wash away his dreams, and he wants to be alone while he does it. 

His angel seems to sense this, not following the demon as he shuffles towards the bathroom. For once, he’s happy they spent the night at his flat instead of the bookshop. While Aziraphale’s tub makes for fun times, Crowley is happy he doesn’t have to miracle up a rain head shower. He reaches in, turning on his shower, and waits a few moments while the room steams up around him. Glancing at himself in the mirror, Crowley winces, taking in the bloodshot eyes and drawn look on his face with a grimace. 

The nightmares had been coming more frequently, leaving Crowley feeling exhausted lately. His angel was worried about him, he knew, and had been spending more nights in bed with the demon instead of doing his usual nightly research. Crowley wanted to feel bad about that, but he was just happy for the contact his angel was giving him. Even if that contact came with sad eyes, worried glances, and strained words on some nights. Aziraphale tries to hide it, Crowley knows this, but it doesn’t always work. 

The bathroom quickly fills with steam and Crowley turns his back to the mirror, ducking his head as he enters the shower. The black tiles glisten with drops of water, reflecting the lights to make the bathroom seem brighter than it already is, but he can’t find it in himself to care. He let’s his head hang as the water washes over him, hot enough to burn and cause shivers to race over his body. He focuses on the slight pain, needing to be grounded; it isn’t enough to really hurt, but his human skin crawls just enough to give him an anchor point. Flames still dance behind his eyes, but Crowley is at least able to push the thoughts away a bit at this point. 

The water pounds against his shoulders, pulsing over him, and Crowley feels himself start to relax. His joints are always tense, always aching even as he saunters around the place. Acting as if nothing is wrong is a daily activity for the demon, one he excels in after all of this time. Aziraphale always seems to be able to see around Crowley’s acts though, which has lead to some awkward conversations on more than one occasion. Crowley pushes the ache out his mind though, tries to ignore it as he always does. 

With the nightmares still fresh in his mind though, Crowley just can’t push his pain away tonight. Even with the hot water running over him, Crowley is so tense and tight, every movement makes him wince. Leaning against the wall, he tries to take some of the weight off himself, tries to find a bit of support, but this only takes him away from the shower water. He shivers, a chill settling in immediately, so he pulls himself from the wall again to stand directly under the torrent of water. The heat from the water makes him shiver and Crowley gasps, unable to hold the shock back as his body stiffens suddenly. 

“Fuck it all,” he mumbles and shifts slowly, using the wall as a support, as he lowers himself to the floor of the shower. One of these days he’s going to miracle a bench seat for moments like this, but he just doesn’t have the energy for it today. 

The demon pulls his legs in, bringing his knees up as far as he possibly can without them hurting them terribly, and wraps his arms around them. Sighing, Crowley leans back against the wall again, letting his head rest gently on the tiled wall. The nightmares have been getting worse lately, terrorizing him on a nightly basis at this point. Visions of Aziraphale being torn apart, memories of falling, the weight and oppression and terror he felt when Satan decided to bring himself bloody topside... It haunts him constantly, along with other fucked up memories from history Crowley has yet to let go of. Sleeping at this point has been a worthless hobby, his nightmares leaving him more tired than if he had just not slept at all. 

Crowley loses himself to his thoughts, allowing them to pull him back under. He just doesn’t have the mental energy to keep them at bay any more tonight, can’t seem to fight his way back from them, so he gives in. It all washes over him in an instant, everything haunting him in an instant. The cries of the children he was never able to help, Aziraphale threatening him, the pain he’s had to watch the humans inflict on each other... Six thousand years of pain, of being alone, pushed to the side. Six thousand years of aching, of every movement hurting him even as he tries to not notice it. 

He hangs his head, bracing his forehead against his arms so his face is buried. He tightens his arms, wrapping them further around his legs and winces at the feeling of his joints straining once again. Sighing, Crowley just sinks further into his own mind, resolved to just let it all consume him. He’ll pull himself back eventually, but for this night, he just can’t handle everything on his own.

Aziraphale finds him hours later, curled up his side on the floor. 

Crowley groans as something shakes him, pulling him back towards the surface. He fights it, not wanting to come back to reality. Wanting to just be able to let go, wanting to just be left alone. He’s so tired of fighting, so tired of having to hold himself together on a constant basis. If he just finally lets go, he might be able to find even a moment of peace...

The shaking on his shoulder grows more insistent and Crowley hears himself groaning at it, hoping that whatever is shaking takes the fucking hint and leaves him alone. Why can’t it just leave him be?

“Crowley...” 

He’s being dragged to the surface, his whole body shaking as he becomes more aware. Shivers overtake the shaking, and Crowley’s brain slowly let’s him know the water that’s still pouring over him is running cold. He stopped miracling it at some point and the hot water naturally ran out without him keeping it hot. Part of his brain tells him this is a problem, an alarm bell attempting to go off, but Crowley just groans again, wanting to just stay where he is...

“Crowley, please...” 

The voice keeps begging him, keeps pulling him back from his downward spiral, and Crowley finally latches on. Pulling himself away from his thoughts, he gasps as he comes back to himself completely. The first thing he realizes is he’s so damn cold. The cold has seeped down to his bones, freezing him to his very core. The shivers have overtaken him and his whole body shakes with them. Each breath rattles in his chest and he wants so badly to slip back under, to go back to where the cold didn’t touch him, but the hand shaking him continues and he slowly pries his eyes open. 

“Crowley? Please, come back to me Crowley...”

His eyes blink open slowly, water running into them as he flashes them towards the sound of his angel’s voice. He tries to say something, tries to let the angel know he is listening, but the only sound that emerges from his frigid lips is a stuttering hiss, broken up by the shivers that are still wracking him. 

“Oh, m-my dear, wait I-I should have,” Aziraphale stutters above him and the hand on his shoulder leaves him. Crowley almost whines as he registers that it was only spot of warmth he had, the only place that wasn’t freezing cold, and he longs to be touched again. “One moment, I-I’m sorry,” Aziraphale says, and before Crowley can think to question why, he registers the sound of water stopping, and the cold stops seeping slowly into him. The shivers don’t leave though, but the source of the cold has at least been taking away. 

“Ngk...” he groans out when fluttering hands start to race over his skin. The warmth is too much and it hurts where it touches him. Everything hurts. His stiff joints have locked in place with the cold and he fears the pain that will come when they are finally moved. They will need to be eventually, and he squeezes his eyes shut once more at the thought of having to endure that pain. 

“Crowley, come back,” Aziraphale begs again, and Crowley has to blink his eyes back open, unable to stand the sound of Aziraphale’s voice. 

“A-angel...” he finally whispers, voice so quiet he finds himself wondering if the other even heard him. His thoughts are answered soon enough though when Aziraphale breathes out a sigh of relief at the sound of his voice. The hands fluttering around him start to press just a slight bit harder against his skin and Crowley can’t stop the hiss that emerges from him as the warmth burns him. 

“Oh, Crowley,” Aziraphale says, hands pulling quickly away from him. “Oh, my dear, what do I do? What can I do to help?”

The angel’s voice sounds so desperate and Crowley hates himself for causing that sound. He can’t find the words to help, can’t make anything work as the shivers and the cold steal them all away from him. Crowley doesn’t really have an answer for him anyways, can’t really figure out what would be the easiest way for the angel to help. The cold is taking everything away from him at this point and Crowley is just fighting to keep his eyes open. 

The angel’s hands are back on his skin and Crowley’s whole body shivers at once at the feeling of them. They are like twin fires being held against him and Crowley hears the groan escape him before he can really think to stop it. “I know, love, bear with it for just a moment,” Aziraphale begs frantically. “I have an idea, just bear with me please.”

Crowley has no clue what the angel is planning, can barely focus past the pain. Blue eyes swim in front of him and Crowley does everything he can to ground him self with them. He can feel the energy wash over him before the miracle takes any effect. The burning sensation against his skin starts to diminish and Crowley vaguely wonders if he’s slipping back under. He can’t even tell where his skin ends and Aziraphale’s hands begin at this point, the cold all consuming...

“Stay with me, please,” Aziraphale murmurs, and Crowley can hear the toll whatever miracle he has done has taken on him already straining his voice. Crowley wants so badly to answer his angel, wants to be able to comfort him and let him know everything is going to be ok, but he just can’t make anything work. He’s convinced he’s made of ice at this point. “This might hurt, Crowley, and I’m so very sorry if it does...”

Crowley only has a moment to even try to process what Aziraphale has told him before he feels himself being moved. Since he has let his body get so cold, everything in him has seized up, locking in place. As soon as he starts moving, his entire being feels like it is shattering, pieces breaking off of him at every joint. He can’t stop the cry that pushes past his frozen throat, wincing as it echoes around the tiled walls. 

“I’m so sorry,” Aziraphale whispers, and Crowley can hear the pain in his angel’s voice. 

Crowley wants to comfort his angel, wants to tell him everything is ok, but all that comes out of his mouth when he tries is another broken cry as he is moved again. Vaguely, part of him realizes that he is now pressed against his angel, but he can’t feel where ends and his angel begins. He wants to ask what Aziraphale has done, but he doesn’t have the energy to even keep his eyes open anymore, let alone find a way to make his words work. 

He’s being cradled against Aziraphale’s chest, head hanging as he is lifted away from the shower floor. There’s a pressure behind his shoulders, a matching one under his knees, and he slowly figures out that his angel is carrying him away. “We’ll get you fixed up and back on your feet in no time,”Aziraphale whispers. “Yes, get you all sorted out and warmed back up and you’ll b-be right as r-rain again.”

Crowley’s heart clenches as his angel stutters over his words, something he only ever does when he is completely terrified. I wasn’t trying to leave you, angel, Crowley finds himself thinking as he is carried away. I swear, I didn’t plan this. I only wanted to drown the nightmares...

“I know you would never leave me, Crowley,” Aziraphale says softly and for a fleeting moment Crowley wonders if he can hear his thoughts. “I don’t know why you stayed in the shower for so long to get like this, but I’m only sorry I didn’t get to you sooner...”

Crowley feels his heart breaking at those words. None of this is his angel’s fault. None of this would have happened if Crowley could just hold it together for one fucking minute. Crowley starts to sink deeper into his own self loathing when he notices he is being lowered on to his own bed. Silk sheets wrap around his freezing body and Crowley startles at their touch. His bed is too cold to warm him up, too much of it’s own prison to ever help him, and yet, Crowley feels himself being cradled. 

His angel has wrapped himself around his still shivering body, his head resting against Aziraphale’s chest. He can vaguely feel a hand in his hair, combing through the tangles. “Zzzira...” he hisses out, questioning everything at this point. He still can’t even feel the angel, still has no idea how he is being held without burning up. 

“I’m sorry if this is confusing,” Aziraphale whispers to him, hand still threading through his hair. “I hope nothing is hurting you though, not more anyways.”

Crowley forces himself to shake his head, forces his body to cooperate long enough to communicate to his angel, that no, laying here in his bed and being held isn’t causing him more pain. The shivering continues though, and his joints are screaming in pain after being moved, but those would have bothered him whether Aziraphale moved him or not. 

“Good, good,” Aziraphale mumbles, sounding more tired than he did back in the shower. 

“W-w-what’ssss....w-w-w-rong?” Crowley manages to push the words out through shuddering teeth, hoping it’s enough to help Aziraphale understand the full question he has. 

The pressure of Aziraphale’s arms around him grows slightly as Aziraphale pulls him closer. “Just using a lot of energy right now, constant miracles have never been my strong suit.” 

Crowley feels another question on his tongue, but doesn’t know if he will be able to voice it this time. He hears himself groan as a particularly harsh shudder takes him over. “Oh, Crowley,” Aziraphale says, and Crowley once again breaks at the pain in his angel’s voice. 

They lay on the bed for quite some time, the angel holding the demon close. Crowley can only listen as Aziraphale starts to mutter nonsense at him. He’s grateful for the words though, even if he doesn’t always know exactly what his angel is talking about. It’s giving him something to anchor to, giving him a reason to keep fighting to stay awake, and he does everything he can to focus on those words. 

Slowly, ever so slowly, the constant shivers start to stop. A shudder runs through him occasionally, but he can handle those. With teeth no longer chattering and a mouth that is no longer frozen, Crowley manages to push words out his aching mouth. “Angel,” he starts, interrupting Aziraphale. He’s still so cold, but he can at least push through this, can at least give his angel some sort of comfort. “Why can’t...I feel you?” he pants out. 

“Ah yes, that,” Aziraphale replies, exhaustion lacing every word. “That would be the result of the constant miracle I mentioned earlier, sorry if it’s at all confusing for you.”

“Ok but...what is it..?” Crowley asks again, still confused. 

Aziraphale tightens around him, still cradling his head to his chest. “I lowered my body temperature.” Crowley feels himself start at the answer. “It was the only way I wasn’t hurting you. If it meant being cold, then so be it, but it has worked so far, hasn’t it?”

“I sssstill don’t really underssstand...” Crowley hisses out. 

“I’ve been warming you up slowly by raising my body temperature, not wanting to hurt you. If I match myself to you, I can help you out by raising your temperature as well as mine bit by bit.” Aziraphale breathes out a soft sigh as he explains. “I know it doesn’t sound like it makes much sense, but it’s starting to work now at least.”

And Crowley finds himself agreeing. He can finally feel his angel next to him, can finally feel himself becoming unfrozen. His joints still hurt terribly, but at least he feels as if he can move them. He starts by wiggling his fingers, bringing some motion back to them a bit at a time. He already knows from experience that moving too fast will just hurt.

“Thank you... angel...” Crowley whispers as he finally finds the strength to place a hand against Aziraphale’s chest. It isn’t much, but it’s something. 

It takes hours to bring Crowley back up to a normal body temperature. He knows that Aziraphale has to be completely exhausted after all of this time, but his angel only keeps the miracle going. Crowley can’t stop the guilt that sets in as time continues to pass, but he also doesn’t know what he would have done without the other’s help. Once Crowley is finally warm again, once he can move all of his stiff joints, he takes Aziraphale’s face between his hands. 

“You can stop now, angel,” Crowley breathes out against the other. “I’m ok now.”

Aziraphale gives him a sleepy smile and Crowley knows he is going to be feeding his angel as much food as he can find over the next couple of days. “Can we just lay here for a little while longer, my dear? I find I’m quite tired for once,” Aziraphale mumbles. 

The demon know his angel won’t end up sleeping, but he also doesn’t mind just spending time in his presence. Aziraphale is going to want to know what happened, eventually, and Crowley understands it’s a conversation that should have happened a long time ago. For now though, he’s happy to just have his angel, to no longer hear the pain and hurt in Aziraphale’s voice. The guilt is still weighing heavily on him, but Crowley only pushes it away, needing to comfort and be comforted as he presses closer to his angel. 

For once, his joints don’t scream in pain and the nightmares don’t haunt his waking thoughts as Aziraphale continues to run his fingers through soft, red hair.


End file.
